Bloodlust
by Wotcher-Tonks
Summary: Rosalie's story, from birth. Enjoy! *ON HIATUS*
1. Superficial Love

From the day I was born, I led a charmed, opulent life. My parents loved me, well, everyone did. Everywhere I went eyes watched me, taking in my golden beauty. I soaked it up, reveled in it. I was in my element. Rosalie Hale, the most envied girl in Rochester.

I was born in the spring, the first child of three. My mother saw me, and said that I was her beautiful Rose, and named me Rosalie. My father readily agreed. They doted on me, so that I was exceedingly spoiled, and by the age of five, had learned that my beauty manipulated people. Countless people were enchanted by me, my flaxen hair, my deep, warm brown eyes. I always got what I want. Poor people were all around us, because of the Depression, and I sneered at them. They had nothing, while, I , Rosalie Hale, had everything. My father had told me that they were poor because of their own shortcomings and failures, so our family had a thick air of superiority whenever we looked disdainfully at the suffering and impoverished. I had a happy life, everything that I wanted was handed to me on a silver platter.

"I'm getting married to him, Rose!"

My closest friend Vera looked at me, checking for the approval and affirmation that every girl looked for in me.

"That's great," I replied absentmindedly. "I know that you will be happy with him."

I was not jealous, I had my own flock of suitors. Almost every man of appropriate age was seeking my hand. I delighted in teasing them, wrapped around my fingers, eating out of the palm of my hand, I toyed with their affections. There was one suitor that I liked very much, Royce King. His golden hair reflected the sunlight whenever he walked eagerly towards me, while I would sitr on the porch and wait. I did not like to reveal my emotions too much, but I couldn't help it sometimes with Royce. I grinned.


	2. Night Turns Eternal

**Author's Note-This is an improved version of last night's chapter. Thank you for reading! Please review. I appreciate advice and tips.  
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Vera's husband came home, his clear, bright eyes shining with transparent excitement for seeing his wife at the end of a long day in the carpentry workshop. He kissed her gently, and she flushed dark red with embarrasment,and looked down at the floor as I stood there awkwardly. Were Royce and I that close? Or were we superficial, the perfect pair, but only on the surface, neither of us daring to skim the water and see what lay below? I quickly mumbled a goodbye, and walked briskly away, troubled by my sudden uncertainty. I, Rosalie Hale, was never fazed by anything, people were fazed by _me_. I walked down the dark street; after all, it was just a few roads away from my luxurious home. Loud voices interrupted my thoughts. I cast my eyes down, quickly looking away in disgust. _Drunks. _I was a good ten feet away from them, yet I could smell the alcohol from my place, where I still walked hurriedly, eyes focused straight ahead. I was nearly home. But as I reluctantly passed by them to turn the corner, one called out to me.

"Rose!" I stopped in my tracks in disbelief. Was that Royce? Reluctantly I started to walk again, only a few more yards and I would be very close to home. Of course it wasn't Royce. I laughed quietly to myself at the ridiculous thought. But he spoke again.

"Here's my rose!" It _was_ Royce. His friends guffawed, as he said, "You're late! We're cold; you've kept us waiting so long!"

I had no inkling that Royce drank, or drank himself to intoxication for that matter. I had always thought that he preferred clarity of mind. I had a sudden insight.

_Did I really know anything about my fiance? _

He had a new friend, one that didn't live in our town. He grasped me and pulled me to him saying "What did I tell you John, Isn't she lovelier than all your Georgia peaches?"

I felt John's gaze travel over me. "It's hard to tell," He declared, "She's all covered up!"

They all laughed raucously once more.

His hand came too fast, before I could realize it, he was tearing the jacket-that he had given me!-off me, harshly. I stood stock still, paralyzed with disbelief and fear, as the buttons clattered and rolled on the street.

"Show him what you look like, Rose!"

Laughing once more, he pulled, hard, at my hat, the pins came loose and so did some of my hair, pulled from the roots savagely. I cried out from the sudden pain, and they laughed, harder than before, and much more maliciously.

When they were finished, I lay in the street, dying. Snow lightly fell around me, stained by me, and the cold only took away a little of the pain.

I lifted my face to the cloudy, dismal sky, the night sky, dark and miserable as my impending, nearby death. I closed my eyes, rested them, and prayed for someone to find me, someone to help.

A few seconds or maybe an eternity of agony later, I opened my eyes laboriously, and saw a pale face leaning over me, a doctor's bag thrown haphazardly on the ground, tools spilling out of it, as the gentle, graceful, movements of Dr.Cullen searched for something to aid me.

He sighed, put the tools up, and turned to the direction of his house, concentrating fiercely as if communicating mentally with someone.

If I had not been mortally wounded, I would have laughed at my sudden imaginative fancies. Dr. Cullen sighed suddenly, and then put his tools up. He leaned down and scooped me up.His arms were colder than the icy snow, I shivered feebly. I was much, much; too weak to resist, or even wonder what he was doing. And then Dr. Cullen started to run.


	3. Inferno of Change

He ran gracefully, faster than anything I had ever felt. Was this just a dream? Or was I dead?

But the pain did not cease,and I slipped into darkness, dizzying, spiraling darkness, as Dr. Cullen and I hurtled somewhere, anywhere where I had no pain.

I opened my eyes, and the light blinded me. As my disoriented eyes settled, I saw that I was in a room, a warm room without many furnishings. I started to descend again into darkness, but there was something sharp slicing me.

The knife was everywhere at once, my throat, ankles, wrists. I screamed. Why was he hurting me _more_?

Then I started tingling. A sudden fire gripped me, and as I writhed in the glare of the inferno, I did not care, I did not know, all I was sure of was that I was burning. Was I in hell?It certainly felt like it. What did I do to deserve hell? All my memories flashed before me before being silenced abruptly by the spreading of the flames. Was I in hell? Why was Dr. Cullen there too, then?

"Kill me," I begged Dr.Cullen, "Kill me, _please_."I figured maybe, just maybe I was alive. He held my hand and it cooled the burning sensation, but only fractionally. I had never begged for anything before, and a small part of me remembered that. But the pain was there, and it was all I could see, all I could feel.

I heard more voices, lovely musical voices. I recognized them as the voices of Mrs. Cullen, and her brother Edward. I forgot how I resented them, and their beauty that distracted people from _me_. I begged them too, to kill me now.

Dr.Cullen was still holding my hand.

"I'm so sorry, Rosalie," he said, sorrowfully, "I'm so sorry."

He told me that it would end. I didn't believe him; the pain was endless, never ceasing.

He told me how he and his family were a kind of immortal, one that drank animal blood, and never aged.

I didn't believe him; the pain was endless, never ceasing.

He kept on explaining, and I tuned him out in the throes of agony. I screamed often.

"I'm sorry." He apologized after every screech of pain. His pale face looked even paler than it usually did.

The screaming didn't help dull the increasing pain. I stopped for a short time.

"What were you thinking, Carlisle?" Edward said incredulously. " _Rosalie Hale_?" I didn't like the way he pronounced my name. I opened my mouth to retort, but the fire only let me whimper.

"I couldn't just let her die," Dr.Cullen replied, quietly, and slightly defensively. "It was too much-too horrible, too much waste." he finished fervently.

"I know" Edward responded airily.

I was even madder. Who was _Edward Cullen_ to judge me? I wondered why he could sound so nonchalant about it. I wondered what the whole conversation _meant_.

"It was too much waste. I couldn't leave her." Dr.Cullen replied, almost silently.

I then heard Mrs. Cullen's warm, comforting voice.

"Of course you couldn't." she assured him

I felt a little better when I heard her friendly voice. But my sudden margin of security was cut harshly by Edward's sudden rationalization.

"People die _all the time_." He said, "Don't you think she's just a little recognizable, though? The kings will have to put up a huge search-not that anyone suspects the fiend."

I was puzzled. They knew it was Royce? I felt a surge of rage, at the thought of Royce, who tortured me for a few laughs with his friends. The rage fed off of the fire, and I was spitting mad. At least they knew he was guilty., I didn't notice the fire hardly as much as earlier. My mind was free to think about other things but torture, dying, then the fire.

"What are we going to do with her?" Edward questioned, a tinge of arrogance, resentment in his tone.

Dr.Cullen let out a sudden sigh.

"That's up to her, of course. She may want to go her own way."

What did he mean? I remembered his words earlier.

Was he sincere? I realized then that my life had ended. Then what or _who_ was I now?

The pain was gone.

They noticed my absence of screaming and writhing immediately, and rushed over to reiterate what they had explained earlier.

I believed them. My skin felt hard, like marble, smooth white marble, and I felt the burning in my throat that they had explicitly described. I was horrified that I wanted blood. The thirst however, took over the moral twinges of my conscience. They had said that it was possible, with abundant self-discipline, to only drink from animals. I didn't care what I drank from. All I knew was that I was thirsty, aching as if I had gone a month without water.

Dr.Cullen solemnly handed me a mirror. I took a breath, looked in, and saw. I saw how my face, already perfect, had at least _doubled_ in beauty. My pale skin was smooth and flawless.

My eyes were a glaring, crimson red. Scarlet was to dark of a red to describe them. They shone with fervor, driven by thirst.

I was beautiful.

I was a vampire, a blood drinker. At least I was beautiful in my new existence.

I only felt one emotion at the time, glaringly powerful.

Lust for Revenge


	4. Fire of Revenge Not Yet Quenched

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**Author's Note-I am very busy with school, so I apologize for infrequent updates, and mediocre writing. Whenever I have some free time, I will improve my chapters. Thanks!**

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At my revelation, I squeezed my fist in a surge of overwhelming emotion. The mirror fell, and I held a jagged handle, shining shards scattered on the floor. I looked down, at my shattered reflection. My red eyes glowed back at me, alive with thirst and shimmering with my lust for death. I was stronger than them. I still had the remaining human blood coursing through my granite veins. They could not stop me. I would hunt for animal blood, and then I would hunt for vengeance. Somewhere, in the deep recesses of my mind, I shuddered inwardly at the thought of drinking human blood. I would kill those who killed me, but I would not cross the crimson line. I looked back up, awake from my thoughts. I was alone in the empty room. Edward had surely read my mind, but it was inconsequential. Nothing could destroy a newborn vampire! I laughed darkly at the thought, delighted with my musical voice. The tracking would start tonight, while the memory was still vivid in my mind, before I lost the echo of humanity that I still had. I would take the friends first. Royce would be saved for last. I grinned, for the first time in days, it seemed, my venomous teeth glinting oddly off the small stream of moonlight through my window. . The varnished wooden floor shook violently but held as I sprinted to the nearby woods to feed. I attacked freely, drinking whatever animal had to misfortune to cross my blood-thirsty path. Everything was sampled, and I reveled in the different, exotic, _delicious_ tastes as my thirst was slowly sated. I smiled again, as the burning quickly subsided. I thought then that being a vampire was not so bad. I was young, frivolous. My mind was content at my vampirism, so long as I could exact revenge. My whole soul, if I still had one, was focused solely on murder.


	5. The First Death

**Disclaimer-I am not Stephenie Meyer and I don't own her characters (no matter how much I love Jasper). **

I gracefully stalked, no, glided down the dark streets shining dimly from the feeble light of the streetlights and the faint sparkles of my skin reflected in the snow.

A newspaper rested on the icy ground before me, soaking in the fresh snow. I picked it up idly, and then stopped suddenly when I read the headline.

ROSALIE HALE MISSING.

Underneath it said FAMILY, DISTRAUGHT, OFFERS REWARD FOR INFORMATION.

The picture beside it made me shudder and wrinkle my nose in disgust. The contrast between my life's beauty and my newly acquired vampiric beauty was shocking.

I shook myself mentally; I had a mission; and continued reading. It painted a saint-like picture of me, talking about my kindness and selfless generosity.

Laughing mirthlessly, I started to ball it up. A name caught my eye. _Royce King_.

"If anyone has even the smallest bit of information, please contact us. I miss her greatly. I hope you will help us catch the monster who took her."

Without thinking, I crushed the paper until it had the consistency of fine sand. My shock at the unconscious display of my immense strength was short lived; my feelings surged into rage.

My impossibly cold body was almost _warm_ with the loathing that consumed me. The hypocrisy!

Couldn't anyone see through his false anguish? I was incredulous that I had ever "_loved"_ him, wanted to spend my life with him!

I lifted my nose to the air-my decision made-and inhaled slowly.

Probing my memory of that awful night, I could just hardly remember the smells of Royce's friends underneath the alcohol's stench.

One had smelled of smoke, not tobacco, but thick pungent smoke as if near a factory. Rochester was still a fledgling town, it only contained one factory; a textile plant.

As far as I knew, there were only a few houses nearby; they were cheap boardinghouses, as only people staying in town for a short time would think of staying near the malodorous factory.

Fueled by my anger, I ran through the snow, never slipping of course, just a ghostly blur in the darkness.

The friends would die first.

Within seconds, I had arrived at the door, opening it smoothly.

Following the now distinct smell, I slipped into his room. Then I deliberately made a noise and his mocking eyes flew open as I advanced upon him.

"Hello," I said rather anticlimactically. He rubbed his bleary eyes and peered at me.

"You killed me." I said simply.

Seeing my crimson eyes he backed up in his bed, paralyzed with terror and too scared to respond.

"You beat me and tortured me. You raped me."

I stepped closer.

"You left me to _die_."

Scared as he was, he relaxed a little; thinking that being a woman, I wouldn't hurt him.

I read the expression on his face and in reply, grabbed his hand.

The shock had barely sprung onto his face before I covered his mouth with an icy hand and crushed his arm with the one gripping him.

His eyes widened in pain and I relished it for a brief moment before I deftly snapped his neck and laughed quietly as I watched him draw a last, ragged breath.

I looked at him again, twisted and broken.

Then I spat on him.

I was out of the house in an instant, closing the door silently behind me.

Grinning, I walked on. I had caught the scent of the other two brutes. The scum were lodging only a block away.

But I stopped.

Royce would be frightened-all his friends killed in one night, him _knowing_ he would be next. However, he would be more terrified if it was slower. I laughed again at the thought of Royce awaiting his doom. I would wait.

It felt strange to smile so much. I did not normally smile, and this was different. It was a savage, thirsty smile.

I realized with mild shock that I _liked_ it.

I liked the killing, the panic in his eyes as I, the predator advanced. I heard motion and moved into the shadows.

It was Royce. I watched as he muttered "…wrong…_killed_her…but enjoyed it…monster…but I enjoyed it…"

I watched him with cold disdain from the shadows.

He threw a bottle into a trash heap and continued on. The remaining alcohol dribbled out of the bottle and stained the snow, as my blood had only days ago.

Was I like him now, him who killed me? Enjoying it?

I shook the thoughts away.

These killings were justice. They were punishment. They were vengeance.


	6. The Cullens

I swiftly walked to the Cullen's house. It was large, sinisterly looming over the other houses no matter how much Dr. Cullen and his wife and that horrid Edward had tried to cheer it up with gleaming white paint.

For some reason, I didn't want to tell them what I had done. I knew they would be disapproving and sympathetic and I didn't need their sympathy. I had been almost dying, and they had interfered as usual and ruined my death, turning me into a blood-drinking killing machine!

I couldn't possibly fathom why exactly I cared what they thought of me. It couldn't be that I was growing to like them, the ones who robbed me of my death? That sounded silly even as I thought it.

I refused to get along with them.

As I opened the door, Edward was suddenly there, leaning against the doorframe. I scowled at his smirk, bright in the dimly lit vestibule.

"I don't want to hear it."

"I wasn't going to say anything." I could practically hear his smirk now.

I wheeled around.

"Are you seriously telling me that I have to put up with you for eternity?" I was suddenly furious, and I didn't understand this strange anger.

"Easy there," he said, putting his hands up. "I know what you did. Remember what I can do?"

I faintly remembered Dr.Cullen telling me that vampires brought their strongest trait with them, and in some it intensified into a power. Sheepish, I turned away, my defensive posture slumping in defeat.

"Don't tell, please." I whispered.

His eyes were kindly now, and that was even worse than the smirk.

"I had to. You can't kill people. I know what you are going through; I did the same, only countless times. You're making a mistake. You will never get the guilt off your conscience, I know I can't. The men I killed were the same as the one you killed, monsters of the human kind, yet their blood still stains my conscience."

It was the most I had ever heard him talk. Everything he said was making perfect sense.

Did I really want these deaths on my conscience?

He smirked a little more-he really was an insufferable vampire. I knew that he was reading my thoughts and already gloating in his victory.

That was what made me really angry.

"**It's not the same**," I roared, rocking a little on my feet.

"**They…they…they deserve it, Cullen!**"

He merely lifted an eyebrow, and I launched myself at him.

I was much stronger than him in my newborn state, but he knew what I was thinking and simply shifted out of the way, and I smashed into the still open door which teetered on its hinges and fell.

Dr.Cullen and his wife appeared from the next room. I knew they had heard the whole thing and felt that inexplicable embarrassment at my crime and anger that they hadn't stepped in and mediated the argument.

I realized that they were probably hoping that Edward and I would become friends and "resolve our differences". Please. I knew that was _never_ going to happen.

"I apologize, Carlisle." Edward said in reply to some question that Dr. Cullen must have thought. "I was merely explaining some of our rules to Miss Hale, such as _no killing people_."

I glared at Edward. He obviously knew that they had been listening in, the jerk.

Carlisle seemed to gather his thoughts, and then spoke.

"Miss Hale, I understand that you want revenge. But wouldn't it be best to let the police know our suspicions, instead of you remedying out punishment of your own? I cannot stop you if you want to continue, but I at least ask that you consider your morals, and…the family that we are welcoming you into. We only want to help, and I promise, it will get easier to resist the blood. We all have trouble; each one of us, but it _is _possible."

I looked at his earnest face, and said in a piercing hiss,

"You're right," and hope lit up his face and his wife's too.

Edward merely leaned against the wall once more, face blank.

"You _can't_ stop me."

And I turned on my heel and walked into the cold night once more.


End file.
